


Delightfully Without Death

by themystery424



Category: Hannibal(TV)
Genre: Both of them, Hannibal's type of immortality is inspired by the book 'My Name Is Memory', M/M, Short Story, have had the idea in my head for awhile, i don't know what to call it, oh yeah they're immortal, quick thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1291612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themystery424/pseuds/themystery424
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is an immortal who is living in 1890's America. As far as he can tell he's the only immortal out there. He knows this isn't true, that there are other ones, but he has yet to find one. Until today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delightfully Without Death

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Immortal Beloved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/905218) by [DarkmoonSigel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel). 



Will Graham was standing in an alley, listening. Listening to the 1895 America. The only thing just as bad as being an African American might've been being an immigrant in this time. He himself was English, but he adapted into the American culture. He'd met all the big shots. George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, all of them. He didn't know why current Americans made such a big deal over all of it. George wouldn't have given a damn that foreigners had come over to help with the economy. As the old saying went, 'America beckons, Americans repel'. How true. These thoughts were what were rolling through his head as he heard the Lithuanian man getting the shit beaten out of him. The man finally get away and stumbled into the alley that Will was in. Will sighed. 

"Sorry about them." He murmured. "Not all Americans are like that." The man chuckled breathlessly. 

"Haven't met one yet who wasn't." He said. "It's fine. I'll recover." It was true, as Will saw. He blinked a few times as the man's skin healed over. 

"You're an...?" The man nodded. 

"Yes. So are you I'm guessing." Will shrugged. Will's breed of immortality was the stereotypical immortal. Heal quickly, when you die you don't die at all really, no longer aged. Organs grow themselves back as do bones and all of that jazz. If he was beheaded he just usually woke up in his bed the next day.  He explained this all to the man and the man nodded. 

"What's your's like?" Will asked. "You're not like me. You look too old." The man showed fake hurt. 

"That was mean. I do stop aging, I just do it at forty." Will smirked. 

"I stop at thirty five." The man rolled his eyes at his smugness. "Do I get a name?" Will asked. The man shook his head. 

"I don't think so. I don't think I'll be around long. I think I'll be dying soon." Will raised an eyebrow. The man chuckled. "When I die, I'm reincarnated with all the memories of my past life. I'm usually somewhere in Lithuania each time it happens. Sometimes I miss whole decades or sometimes I don't." Will nodded a few times. 

"So if I wanted to be your friend, and you died, I just go to Lithuania?" Will asked with a smile. The man smiled a little. 

"If you'd like to. I have to be going now." He said, leaving Will alone with his thoughts. Now that he found an immortal, he wasn't going to lose him. He was honestly tired of being alone. 

 

The man had died three days later. He had been beaten to death in the street, his murderers not charged with anything. This infuriated Will, but went to have no quarrel with them. Instead he went to Lithuania. For a few decades, he wandered. Earned a reputation. The English Ghost was what they called him. He never stayed for more than a day anywhere, and when he returned after visiting every city in Lithuania, many years from the first visit, he looked exactly the same. No new cuts or bruises, and ninety percent of the time he was wearing the exact same clothes. He was still looking for him, or her, whatever his friend had been reincarnated into. It wasn't until he passed by a castle that he found him.

There was a boy and a girl playing out front by a lake. Will paused and smiled at them. They were cute. The boy looked to be five or six years old, the girl one or two. The girl squealed and shouted his name, both of them being too far off for Will to catch it. The boy grinned and then the girl looked in Will's direction. She said something to the boy and the boy looked at Will. His eyes widened and he told her something. Then he walked over to Will and looked up at him in confusion. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Will chuckled and squatted, looking the boy over. His hair was a little lighter than the life Will had met him in, but not by much. His eyes were also a maroon color, looking brown in certain lights. The boy frowned and huffed, not liking that he was being ignored. "What are you doing here, I asked." Will chuckled once again. 

"Wow... I've been looking for you." He explained, standing up. 

"Why? Don't you know how dangerous it is to be in these parts at this time? Especially if you're a foreigner?" He asked. It was true. Will and a lot of locals knew that a second World War was under way, all because of Hitler. Will shrugged all those thoughts off. 

"There's not much they can do to me. After all, I can't die." The boy sighed. Will looked over to see the little girl running over. The boy turned around and smiled. 

"Mischa, I told you to wait over there. This man could've attacked you. If you came running over here like that." Mischa giggled happily and hugged her brother, the boy picking her up and hugging her close. Will smiled at how cute they looked. Mischa looked to Will. 

"What is your name?" She asked sloppily, still learning how to speak. Will smiled a little wider. 

"My name is Will Graham. What is your and your brother's names?" He asked. Mischa grinned. 

"I is Mischa. Tis my brother, Anni-" The boy covered her mouth. She looked to him in confusion and realized that he didn't want Will to know what his name was. So she giggled, glad she got to keep a secret with her brother. She loved keeping secrets with him. It made her feel special to him. The boy smiled at her and kissed her cheek happily. Mischa grinned and wiggled out of his arms, walking over to Will and hugging his legs. "Are you America?" Will chuckled and picked her up. 

"I'm from America. I wouldn't say I am America." Mischa giggled and nodded, poking his nose and glasses. 

"You should come home. And meet our family. And have something to eat!" The girl looked to her brother and the boy sighed. 

"I guess he can come if he wants." He mumbled. Mischa squealed happily and looked to Will. Will laughed.

"I think I can spare a moment." He noticed the gold band around the girl's wrist and smiled at that. "What's this?" Mischa grinned and took it off, showing him the gold band and the words engraved into in Lithuanian. Will couldn't read them, only knowing the language, but he smiled all the same. "Oh, that's really pretty." He said. Mischa slid it back on and held it close to her chest. The boy smiled. 

"It's her most prized possession. She loves it more than she loves a lot of things." Mischa smiled and nodded. Will smiled and allowed the boy to lead him back to the castle. 

 

Will stayed for three days, within that time he never found out the boy's full name. Or their last name. He had insisted they keep it a secret. When he left, he left for home. America. And they were all right. The second World War started just a few years later. The boy and his family moved to a cabin out in the woods when the Germans invaded Lithuania. This only proved fatal for his father and mother, who were bombed. His sister died soon after him by the hands of monsters, who had decided she was food. This little boy grew up cold and hated by his peers. Mocked in school. Hated by his community. This made him numb to most everything, including the idea of violence. He'd killed nine people by the time he was eighteen, and never got caught. Now he was a psychiatrist in Baltimore, treating people for their problems and coping with his own through violence and blood. 

Will Graham had been drafted into the war and died in Germany. Five times. He continued to fight and when the war was over, and when they had one, he went home and began to self medicate. Alcohol was his poison, and yet he never stopped drinking. He'd killed two livers doing that, and killed his heart with the occasional pill popping. Of course, he came back to life soon after. It wasn't that he'd seen the bodies. It wasn't that he'd killed people. It was his damn empathy that kept him up. Feeling the boys' emotions as their lives were robbed of them. A lot of them knowing they'd never go home to their girlfriends or wives. A few decades later, he decided to get back out in the world. He became a cop. That soon grew too much for him to handle, and he was a teacher suddenly at the FBI academy. He liked this lifestyle. It was easy for him. 

 

Will Graham didn't look up as Jack Crawford entered his classroom. He honesty couldn't find it in him to care anymore about what he said or did. He was packing up from that day's lesson, and he strategically placed his glasses on his face, the brim making it to where he didn't make eye contact with him. Jack walked over and stood in front of him. He was a very intimidating man, Will had decided. 

"Mr. Graham. Special Agent Jack Crawford. I head the Behavioral Science Unit."  He introduced. 

"We've met." Will nodded. 

"Yes. We had a disagreement when we opened up the museum." Jack mused. 

"I disagreed with what you named it." 

"The, uh, Evil Minds Research Museum." Jack recalled.

"It’s a little hammy, Jack."

"I see you've hitched your horse to a teaching post, and I also understand it’s difficult for you to be social." Jack commented, looking around at Will's teach hall. 

"Well, I’m just talking at them. I’m not listening to them. It’s not social." Will shrugged.  He looked to Jack for the first time in their conversation. 

"I see. May I?" Will gave a small smile as Jack adjusted his glasses so he could see his eyes. "Where do you fall on the spectrum?" 

"My horse is hitched to a post that is closer to Asperger’s and autistics than narcissists and sociopaths." He said as he continued to pack up. 

"But you can empathize with narcissists – and sociopaths." Jack pressed. 

"I can empathize with anybody. It’s less to do with a personality disorder than an active imagination." Will shrugged. Jack stopped him from doing anything more, making Will look at him. 

"Can I borrow, your imagination?" 

 

Will Graham had decided to consult on the case, with a heavy heart. This... killer, would be difficult to catch. This cannibal, is what they decided. He was definitely a cannibal. When Will walked into Jack's office, another man was there. He had light blond-silver hair, and was looking at the bulletin board.  Jack acknowledged Will's presence with a nod and turned back to Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the psychiatrist Jack called in. Will took a seat and waited. Finally Hannibal spoke. 

"Tell me, then, how many confessions?" He said, walking back to his seat. Hannibal glanced at Will. 

"Twelve dozen, the last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning. And then they all had details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols’ body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then Freddy Lounds posted it on Tattlecrime.com." Jack said bitterly. 

"Tasteless." Will muttered. Hannibal turned to him, and really looked at him now that he could. Yes. It was indeed the same Will Graham. 

"Do you have trouble with taste?" He asked. 

"My thoughts are often not tasty." Will replied. Hannibal nodded in understanding. 

"Nor mine. No effective barriers." 

"I build forts."

"Associations come quickly."

"So do forts." Hannibal gave a slight smile. Sass had grown in Will since he'd seen him in his child hood. 

"Not fond of eye contact?" 

"Eyes are distracting you see too much, you don’t see enough. And-And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, “Oh, those whites are really white”, or, “He must have hepatitis”, or, “Oh, is that a burst “vein?” So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. Jack?" 

"Yeah?" But that was the only word Jack got out, before Hannibal interrupted again. 

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." He analyzed of Will. Will stared at him, a little betrayed. 

"Whose profile are you working on?" He turned to Jack. "Whose profile is he working on?" Hannibal chuckled at Will over reacting. 

"I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off." 

"Please, don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I psychoanalyzed." Will said, sass dripping from his tone. 

"Will..." Jack started, but Will was getting up to leave. 

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture. On psychoanalyzing." 

 

All throughout the Garret Jacob Hobbs case, Will continued to have no idea who Hannibal was. This more or less upset Hannibal, having hoped Will was still looking for company. Hannibal would admit that he himself was looking for company now. Apparently, he'd given up on his goal to see Hannibal again. Too bad. Hannibal was here and looking to talk with someone about all that had happened. They were currently finishing up the psychological evaluation. Will noticed him lay the paper down on his desk. 

"What's that?" He asked.

"Your psychological evaluation. You're totally functional and more or less sane." He looked up at him. "Well done." Will looked even more confused. 

"Did you just rubber-stamp me?" 

"Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork." And then there was silence. Hannibal finally spoke. "Did you serve in the war?" Will blinked. 

"War? Which one?" 

"The second World War." Will laughed, shaking his head. 

"I think I'm too young to have served in that war." He said. Hannibal nodded slightly and walked around a little more, now Will being awkward. Hannibal wasn't at all awkward, of course, and he let Will be silent. Then, after a few minutes, Will sighed. "How did you know?" Hannibal chuckled. 

"Easy to see the toll of war in a soldier's eyes." 

"No, how did you know I lived during that time?" 

"You visited my home in Lithuania. You had dinner with my family." Will stared at him. 

"That... that was you?" He asked. Hannibal gave a modest nod. Will climbed down the ladder and was on the same level as Hannibal. Hannibal smiled. "You still remember me?" Hannibal shrugged slightly. 

"I have found myself lusting after company. I remembered you, and have spent a small amount of time looking for you. I thought you had died permanently." Will smiled slightly and shook his head. 

"No, I'm here still. Wow... that child was you. How's your sister?" Hannibal stiffened and Will bit his lip. "Uh..."

"She died in the war, along with my parents. I am alone." Will bit his lip a little more and held his hand. 

"You don't have to be." He whispered. Hannibal smiled at that. 

"Thank you for the company." 


End file.
